


Broken Promise

by kenshincha



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drinking, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenshincha/pseuds/kenshincha
Summary: When Tony breaks a promise, he doesn't take it well.





	Broken Promise

Tony couldn't remember the last time he'd been this drunk. Sure, the main reason was probably because the last time he'd been this drunk, he'd woken up with no memory of the binge. But he couldn't remember the last time that happened either.

His hangover would be a fucking doozy tomorrow. He could barely lift his head, instead choosing to rest it on his arm on the penthouse bar.

Tony tilted his glass from left to right, watching the water that had once been ice wash back and forth over the top of the dark brown liquor. He was slowing down. He hadn't given the ice a chance to melt before throwing the drink back and filling it back up.

How fucking long had he been sitting there, staring at his full glass? The lights of the city winked dully through the whiskey until suddenly they didn't. He frowned at it, wondering if power went out in the city. It could be the work of a villian. He'd have to get to the armor. Tony tried to sit up, but it felt like the room was twisting around him. His vision spun as he looked up and saw him standing right in front of him on the other side of the bar.

He felt like throwing up. Just when he'd drank enough to forget. He never remembered having hallucinations when he was drunk, and this was a hell of a time to start.

Steve Roger's face swam into focus. He looked battered, like he'd just come off a mission. Like he wasn't currently down in the tower basement in a drawer. Not even super soldiers could walk off a bullet to the heart.

"Tony," the figment said. It sounded like him, but his voice was sorrowful, like Tony was the dead one, not him.

"Is this my life?" Tony slurred. "I killed you, so I'm going to be haunted by you until I die?"

The pained expression on Steve's face twisted before breaking into an achingly familiar look of determination. "No, but you've had enough."

Tony snorted, like he'd let this hallucination boss him around. He looked at the glass again and tilted it to one side, hoping the water acting like a clear mocking barrier would spill out so he could actually drink the whiskey.

His hand was engulfed in warmth and the glass disappeared from his hand. He blinked at it before glaring at the ghost. "Give it back."

"You've had enough."

"Fuck off!" Tony shouted. He couldn't take this. He probably deserved it, to be haunted by a constant reminder of his biggest failure, but he couldn't take his much longer.

Tony spun around on his stool and would have landed face first down on the floor if something hadn't snagged the collar of his shirt. He was propped back on the bar for a moment before his arm was thrown over a wide muscular set of shoulders. He was lifted up, but the movement was too much for him and he doubled over to vomit, only liquid coming up. The alcohol and stomach acid burned his throat and his nostrils.

"That's probably for the best," his ghost said before leading — or more accurately, dragging — Tony from the penthouse bar over couches.

He was gently laid down on the cushions on his side. A thick pillow propped up his pounding head. Tony groaned. His body wasn't liking this new position but seemed to settle down.

Rough fingers combed through Tony's hair. It felt nice. It was something to concentrate on, to distract himself from the pain.

"You didn't kill me. You couldn't have known it was a trap," a voice murmured.

"Should've," Tony rebutted. His eyes were too heavy to keep open for long. "I promised I'd protect you. You're dead because I didn't."

"I'm not dead," Steve promised, and it made Tony want to cry. "It just took the serum some time to heal me."

Tony shook his head, wincing at the nausea the movement brought.

There was a sigh that ruffled his hair. "Go to sleep, Tony. I'll be here when you wake up."

Tony did. He didn't believe him, but he did.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this deciding Steve was hurt so bad he appeared dead, but revived later. If you prefer the angst, you can imagine Steve really was a hallucination.


End file.
